I Aint No Godfather
by Alice Laurie
Summary: Daryl Dixon: Hunter. Survivalist. Walker Assassin. Guardian?  Set directly after 2.13
1. A Cop and the Robber

**Disclaimer: **Standard disclaimer applies :)

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><p><strong>I Aint No Godfather<strong>

There was a chill to the air, a breeze that rustled the leaves and the hairs at the back of Daryl Dixon's head. He adjusted the strap of his crossbow that lay against his chest and squinted out into the sun. It was daylight- late afternoon. The concept of hours had long disappeared, although if he had to guess he'd say it was about four or five. He wondered what month it was, what day. It was autumn- he knew that for sure. The leaves hadn't started their change yet but he could taste the difference in the air. But was it early October yet? Merle's birthday was in October. October 11th to be exact.

Daryl idly wondered whether he'd miss his own birthday. It was such an odd thing to consider, missing one's own birthday. The Dixon's were never big on birthdays; hell, his own father rarely ever said anything. All the same, it was a weird feeling to know that the day would come and go without him knowing.

He supposed the same could be said for all dates that way. Holidays like Christmas and President's Day. No Thanksgiving. The year would change and no one would know. If the world somehow pulled through and civilization re-started itself, how would they know the number of days passed? Had someone somewhere kept count? Daryl placed a hand on his forehead. It was useless to dwell upon these sorts of things. The world was over. The months didn't matter, nor did the time. People would age and that would be that. Assuming of course they'd last long enough.

He watched Herschel and his younger daughter piling firewood down in the pit. The fire burned bright, a source of warmth for Lori, her son and Carol who sat around it chatting quietly. He momentarily wondered what they spoke about, but quickly put it out of his head. Fires in the day, out at night. How backwards their world had become. They had to stay hidden against the walkers. Just because they couldn't see didn't mean the walkers couldn't see them.

He remembered how terrified he was of the dark as a child. How his brother would lock him in the cellar for hours just to torture him. Merle took great pleasure in his pain- it was something that Daryl did not quite understand as a child. How could you say you loved someone on second and then break his wrist the next? After a while, he stopped questioning Merle's motives and just took it in stride. That's just the way things were.

There was a grunt behind him and Daryl whipped around, his hand reaching for the knife on his hip. They hadn't seen a walker in days- it was about time that one of them showed up. He was mildly surprised then when Rick pulled himself over the edge of the wall.

"Christ, you wanna make a lil more noise instead of sneaking up on people like that? I thought you'se a walker," Daryl exclaimed. Sliding his knife back into its sheath he dropped down into a crouch, eyes scanning the surrounding area for the eventual walker.

"I thought noise was a bad thing. I'll have to keep that in mind though," Rick said, coming to stand beside him. "I thought you could use some company up here."

Daryl grunted, choosing not to voice his thoughts. He was perfectly capable of keeping watch by his self. But if Rick wanted company; well that was different. It was useless to deny him of that these days with Shane gone. He suspected that Rick was at a loss for whom to turn to. Better him than T-Dog, really.

"See anything?" Rick asked after a moment.

"Nah. Noting but the Chinaman giving it to his lady there. He's got some balls doin' it with her father so close," he responded dryly. Rick snorted.

"Everyone copes differently."

Daryl glanced up at him.

"You did the right thing," he offered. Rick placed a hand over his eyes for a second. Daryl could see the pain of remembrance washing over his features. Exhaling sharply, the redneck cast his eyes elsewhere, letting them settle on Carol as she pulled her sweater tighter around her body. She was loosing weight- he could see it in her cheekbones and shoulders. He made a mental note to watch her when they ate later. If she had stopped eating and got sick she would drag the group down when they got on the road again. They already had enough liabilities with the old man and Lori's pregnancy- they didn't need any more weak links.

Rick lowered himself onto the edge of the wall, his feet dangling under him. Daryl watched him out of the corner of his eye as he fidgeted with his wedding band.

"I think Lori's angry with me. She… she refuses to talk to me. She doesn't get it- she doesn't see how Shane had turned. He was a threat to this group. To Lori."

"I think she knew more than she let on," was all Daryl said. Rick sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"It's too much," Rick said. He sounded exhausted, which was to be expected all things considering. "How is one man supposed to protect and lead a group of people to safety while still maintaining his marriage and being a good father? Something's going to suffer."

Daryl opened his mouth to point out that things had already begun to suffer. If Rick had paid closer attention to Lori then the animosity that slowly drove Shane mad wouldn't have escalated to that point. Did it mean that Shane would have turned out different? Daryl doubted it. If there was one thing he learned from growing up around his brother it was that people like that are born one way. Circumstances change nothing.

"I need you to promise me something."

Daryl looked up to see the desperation in Rick's eyes. He had seen that look before in Carol's when she pleaded for him to find Sophia. It was the same look his mother had when she tearfully explained to him at age seven that she was leaving and he wasn't coming with her. It was the look of someone who was trapped- drowning with no way out.

He hesitated.

"What's that?"

"Carl. I'm worried about him. His mind is still growing. I can't imagine what kind of effect this is having on his psyche. This is no world that any child should grow up in. All this… running and fear. Not knowing from one day to the next if you're even going to survive."

Not much different from his own childhood really, Daryl thought. And he turned out all right.

"I need someone to keep an eye out for him."

Daryl scoffed.

"He's got his mother for that."

Rick began fidgeting with his wedding band again. The ex-officer seemed to do that when he was worried about something, he noticed.

"Lori and I might not always be there. He needs a male figure to watch out for him. To teach him how to survive in this world." He bowed his head. "Shane was his godfather- silly really, I'm not much of a religious man but Lori insisted on it."

Daryl looked down at the young boy. He had abandoned his mother to help Herschel with the firewood. Rick was right in a way, he had to admit: put a child in these types of situations and it changes them. How intact was his innocence? Had he experienced his first kill yet? It was inevitable that he would have to learn to kill- there wouldn't always be someone around to watch over him. It was hard enough for an adult to survive this world, but a child? It was a wonder the boy had lived this long.

"I aint really godfather material," Daryl told him. Rick laughed for the first time in days.

"No, I guess not."

Daryl scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out the best words. He couldn't be the boy's protector. Singling one person out like that wasn't in the best interest of the group. Rick knew that too- despite the strong bond between a father and son. Watching one person out left others vulnerable. Everyone needed a protector. Everyone needed someone watching their back. Even he did though it was a hard thing to admit. No, he couldn't be the boy's soul guardian, but he could give him a fighting chance.

"I can teach him," Daryl said quietly. "Show him how to hunt and track. Can't always have his ma and pa doin' things for him. He'll have a chance if he gets separated from the group."

He hated putting the thought into the other man's head but it was the truth. Things happened and people got left behind. Shit, they'd lost Andrea. Daryl was still resentful that he had let Rick talk him out of going back for her. She was a tough chick; he knew that. There was no doubt she'd manage against the walkers. But there was more to surviving than being able to kill.

Rick laid a hand on Daryl's arm.

"That would mean a lot to me. I know Carl would appreciate the attention too. The loss of Shane is hitting him hard."

The redneck nodded once and made his way over to the edge of the wall.

"I'm gunna go take a piss. You good to watch?" he asked. Rick nodded back, standing up so he could get a better viewpoint.

"You're a good man Daryl," Rick told him. Daryl shifted uncomfortably, caught off guard by the man's appraisal. Was he supposed to thank him? No, the Dixon's don't thank people, nor do they apologize. Instead, he lowered his head and jumped off the side of the wall. Walking towards the tree line, he threw one more glance over at the boy.

As if feeling his gaze, Carl glanced up, their eyes catching. The kid didn't smile or acknowledge him in any way. He just stared, his eyes finding their way under Daryl's skin. He had seen that look too- the mix of fear and betrayal, the look of innocence that had been murdered brutally before him. It was in that look that Daryl's heart softened a bit and he felt a deep understanding towards the boy.

Growing up in a world of violence made it easy to loose your self, especially for a child at that age. Daryl knew this, because he had seen the same look in his own eyes everyday in the mirror since as long as he could remember.


	2. Sibling Sympathy

Daryl wandered through the forest, eyes narrowed and darting among the trees as he carefully stepped between them. He held his crossbow high in the air, elbows cocked, ready to fire at the first sign of danger. Glenn had been right- the woods were crawling with walkers. He had long lost track of the number he had brought down. It was a danger to be out alone, especially so close to Herschel's farm where the geeks had congregated to feed on the cattle and horses. Despite that, the danger never even crossed his mind. Daryl Dixon was on a mission.

Find Andrea.

There were two things that stood out in his mind as he moved along. The first was how every walker he came across looked almost identical and eerily familiar. Same muddy blue jeans, same white and gray blouse torn at the side, same disheveled blonde hair falling down over her shoulders. Her. They were always women. Every single one of them.

The second was how silent the world had become. Being a man of the wilderness he was quite used to the concept of a quiet forest, but this was something else altogether. No birds, no hiss of insects, no rustling of leaves in the wind. No footsteps as the walkers shuffled towards him with their arms outstretched and mouths open for food. It was as though someone had plugged his ears with cotton.

There was however, one noise that drew him closer and gave him a sense of direction: a noise that appeared to be completely out of place at that given moment. A voice. A male voice. Like the walkers that lingered in the forest, the voice left him with a strange sense of déjà vu. He couldn't place the feeling of distinct familiarity sitting heavy in his stomach. Dread and elation pulled at his heartstrings, leaving a bitter taste under his tongue.

It wasn't until he reached the clearing that the realization hit him in the face, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as his insides churned wickedly. His crossbow hit the ground with a clatter that echoed through the trees. The other man turned on him, his stormy blue eyes alight with surprise and amusement; cruel amusement that Daryl knew too well.

"Merle." His voice came out flat and thin, barely vibrating his vocal chords. His brother laughed loudly.

"Well little brother, 'bout time you showed up! Here I thought you'd forgotten about lil ol' me," jested the older Dixon. Daryl offered him a half smile as Merle sauntered towards him.

"What are you doin' here? How'd you find the farm?" Daryl asked. He felt drawn to the man standing before him- he had the strong urge to reach out and touch him. It had been too long since he'd been in his brother's presence.

"Wasn't hard to figure out stupid. What, you think that just 'cause you don't see people means they aint there?" Merle sneered. "C'mon boy, you know big brother is always watchin' ya. I got your back brother."

Daryl furrowed his brow, confusion setting him off balance. Something was wrong about this scene. He took a step to his left, eyes sweeping over the clearing.

"If you knew where I was why didn't you come git me?" he queried. Merle folded his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he watched Daryl slowly circle the clearing.

"I was pretty pissed that Officer Friendly killed two of my men. I'se afraid if I came to get you we'd have a bloodbath on our hands. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Daryl grunted and focused his eyes on his older brother. So his gut had been right then- Merle had been part of Randall's gang. He knew it from the second the boy had brought up the story of the two daughters they had raped that it had typical Merle Dixon written all over it.

"So where is'e?"

It was more of a demand than a question. Daryl was surprised that after all these weeks and everything that had transpired in between that his brother's voice still had a hold on him. Was it because he longed for his brother's respect that he felt the need to give it all up? Or was it simply because he knew that consequences that would follow if he refused Merle anything. Daryl felt his fist tightening into a ball, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

"I dunno who you're talking about," he ground out. He could feel the muscles in his jaw tighten with every word of defiance.

"Don't you play dumb with me smartass. Your friend Rick. He's done a bad thing, and by Georgia law he needs to be punished. Any good man of the law knows that. Now I know that you know where he is." Merle's voice had dropped all hint of playfulness. It was clear that he was getting angry. Daryl fought a shiver and glanced around the area, his mind suddenly feeling wet and foggy. He was missing something huge. Something big was staring him in the face.

"I dunno they split a long time ago. The farm got overrun by geeks 'n they all left. Jus' me now," he replied keeping his tone steady. Merle took a step towards him, his eyes thundering.

"You're a liar. The farm got burned out all right but you'se with them when they left. Followin' them around like some sad puppy dog that got left out in the rain. Still can't face the fact that you're worthless as shit, can ya? Think maybe if you do some good they'll wanna keep you."

Merle's words cut across the air, seeping into Daryl's skin like venom. He winced and stepped back from his brother defensively.

"You know nothing. They need me."

"Need you?" Merle bit back, "Son they just using you!" You'se nothing but a lemming to that Rick. He's just keeping you around to do all the dirty work, is'n that right?"

"Screw you. You don't know anything," Daryl barked. Merle cackled, taking another step forward.

"What, you think you're their protector? Some… knight in shining armor? You're doin' a real shit job of that, aint you? Can't even do that right," Merle taunted.

Daryl could feel his resolve breaking as he backed away from his older brother. Every word was a stab into old infected wounds that had never fully healed. Wounds that probably never would.

"First you let that lil girl die. Ya promised her mama you'd bring her back all safe 'n sound. Sorry bitch had to watch her baby get shot. An' whose fault is that?"

Daryl shook his head, throwing his hands up into the air as if to block the verbal blows with his physical self.

"Shut up! That wasn' my fault!"

"Then 'stead of watching camp you're torturing some poor boy. You let that ol' man die. Didn't you!"

Daryl closed his eyes and rubbed his fists against his forehead. _All your fault. _Dale, Sophia…

_Sophia_. He knew about Sophia turning into a walker. How could he know?

"Feisty lil blonde thing didn't get much of a change either. She counted on ol' Daryl to save her. Bitch was screaming your name as she stumbled through the forest."

Daryl's head snapped up. Andrea. The walker.

"What I wanna know," Merle said, placing his hands on his waist, "is why she's crying for your sorry ass when I broke your neck instead her good friend Shane."

He killed Andrea. The thought of Merle wrapping his hands around the neck of someone who he had grown to care about was enough to break the iron first his older brother had kept on Daryl's mentality. Daryl lunged forwards, his body taut with the rage he had felt under his brother's oppression for so many years.

But Merle was too quick for him- how foolish to think his reflexes could somehow be quicker- and a blast of white-hot heat radiated through his skull as Merle's boot connected with the side of his head. Daryl fell, his body limp like a ragdoll as it hit the ground.

Merle's laughs rang in his ears as Daryl lay paralyzed, his eyes staring into the dull, frightened eyes of a very dead Andrea.

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><p>Daryl woke with a start, his heart pounding hard and fast in his chest. He could still hear Merle's twisted laughter in his ears; Andrea's wide eyes burned into the back of his brain. It was rare that Daryl found himself dreaming let alone having nightmares. He supposed after so many years of being tortured and abused by the hands of his father and brother his body had blocked out the ability to dream. Why would anyone want to dream if the only thing you ever dreamt about was more pain? You either watched yourself living a better life or you relived the pain all over again in a much more demented manner. It was a lose, lose situation really.<p>

Judging by the pale light shining through their small shelter he figured it was only about an hour or so after dawn. He had hoped to get at least a few more hours of sleep but the thought of going back to the forest with Merle and Andrea was enough to put him off sleeping forever. His nerves couldn't handle it. He pulled himself into a sitting position leaning his back against the cold brick.

"You look like death."

Daryl tipped his head, staring at the older shorthaired woman sitting across the camp from him. He lifted a hand to his head, wiping the chilled sweat away from his brow.

"It's nothing," he responded gruffly. He looked around camp, taking inventory of the still-sleeping members of his group. T-Dog and Glenn were the only two missing- hopefully still on watch where Daryl and Herschel left them the night previous.

"I couldn't sleep," said Carol. "I kept having nightmares about the other night on the farm. Sophia was there."

Daryl winced at the mention of the young girl's name.

"If I still had my brother's stash I coulda given ya somethin' for that."

Carol smiled sadly. He hated the way she always looked at him, as if expecting him to hold all the answers to her world. Even without speaking a single word she expected too much of him. Things he couldn't even begin to understand how to give her.

"Will you take a walk with me?" she asked him. He paused, considering the notion of taking a walk alone with Carol in the woods. While the idea of being forced into a possible conversation with her was less than thrilling to him, his body ached with the need to stretch his legs and rid his mind of the haunting vision of a deceased Andrea. He nodded, pulling his crossbow across his back.

"Make it quick then."

He strode off into the forest, enjoying the feeling of the cool air against his face. He welcomed the early chorus of birds regardless of how their noise interrupted his thought process. Anything was better than the silence that surrounded him at Herschel's forest. He heard Carol following him from behind and it wasn't long before her footsteps fell into place beside his own.

"Where do you think we'll go?" She sounded so much like a child it hurt his ears. How could someone so tough sound so innocent? He wondered if she had come to terms yet with the death of her daughter. Based on the fact that she still dreamt of her, he figured not.

"Rick wants to go ta some fort or somethin'," Daryl answered.

"Do you think there'll be other survivors there?"

Survivors. Funny word. Survivors were people who had lived through something tragic. If they made it through this would they always be considered survivors? The whole existence of the human race, collectively surviving together.

"There might be," he replied, kicking at a rock that lay in his path. "If we ever get there." _If _they survived. Daryl glanced over at her, watching as she processed the thought of the long journey that stood before them.

"Are you sure that we wouldn't be better off on our own?"

Daryl stopped in his tracks, turning to face her.

"I thought about it before- going off on my own. Figured I'd have a better chance. No one ta look after."

Her face fell at the idea of him leaving her behind.

"It aint a good idea though," he continued. "Rick's right. Our best move is ta stick with the group." Besides, he thought, he had made the promise to watch out for Carl. There was no way to fulfill his promise if he left now. And above nothing else, Daryl was a man of his word.

They continued on their way, his answer enough to quiet Carol's wish to leave. He was glad that he didn't have to argue with her further on the matter. It was a fight that she was going to lose and he didn't want to create any more problems.

"Daryl-" there was urgency in her voice and he looked up to see a walker stumbling towards them. Lifting a finger to his lips to signal her to keep quiet, he pulled his crossbow from his back. Planting his feet firmly in the group he lined up the shot with the geek's head and fired.

"Enough walking, let's head back," he said. He retrieved his bolt from the walker's head, a careless boot to the face for leverage.

"Do you think there's more of them out there? Like at the farm?"

Daryl sighed, growing tired of the other woman's constant questions.

"Probably. Just pray we're gone before they reach us," he told her. He gave one more sweeping glance at the surrounding forest. He hoped for all their sakes that the walkers stayed away for the time being. There wasn't a chance in hell they could walk away from that sort of fight so soon- especially without any weapons for protection.

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><p>They arrived back at camp just as the others were beginning to wake. Glenn gave Daryl a knowing look as he watched the two of them approaching together but thankfully kept his mouth shut.<p>

"There was a walker 'bout twenty minutes walk from here," Daryl said, making his way straight to Rick. The officer ran a hand through the back of his hair, sighing. He looked exhausted- dark rings had formed around his eyes and he was in desperate need of a shave. Daryl touched a hand to his own goatee, thankful for the first time in his life that his facial hair was fairly sparse.

"They're getting closer. We should start heading back to the highway, see if we can gather up some weapons," Rick said.

"That'll take us days without a vehicle," Glenn interjected. "It was at least a two hour drive."

Rick paced the length of the brick ruins they had claimed as shelter.

"We don't have any other options. We know there's a good chance of there being weapons back at the highway," he explained. Glenn shook his head.

"We should explore a bit further down the road."

"Glenn's right. There's lot's of little villages around this area. Not as big as our town but clivilazion all the same. There's bound to be supplies there," Maggie added.

"I'll go," Daryl said. "Drive for an hour or so, see if I can find something. If not, we head back to the highway, jus' like you said."

Rick hesitated.

"We need to stick together. We'll all go," he replied. Daryl groaned. Group mentality was key, but there were times when the idea of sticking together was just plain stupid. This was one of those times.

"Doesn't make sense draggin' everyone somewhere without an idea if there's anything even there. Jus' a waste of time if you ask me," he responded. "It'll be quicker if I go on my own. Rest of the group stays here, where there's shelter. Save energy."

Rick considered it for a moment before giving in.

"When do you plan on going?"

Daryl shrugged.

"This afternoon, maybe tomorrow. I'm gunna go huntin' in the meantime, see if I can catch some food for you people."

"I'm starving," piped Herschel's youngest daughter.

"We all are sweetie," Lori said, wrapping her arms around the girl's shoulders. "For the first time in my life roasted squirrel sounds really, really good."

"I'll do what I can," Daryl told her. "I was thinkin' 'bout taking your boy out."

Rick rubbed his jaw, glancing at his son.

"I dunno… Carl do you think you can handle it?" Rick asked him. The boy's eyes lit up: anything that would get him away from the boring monotony of camp.

"Absolutely not. Rick, no!" Lori cried before Carl could answer. "Daryl how could you even ask such a thing? There are walkers out there- you said so yourself. And you want to put a child in a dangerous situation like that?" Her eyes were burning as she turned on him. Daryl raised his arms in an offense manner, ready to take her down if she tried anything.

"You think he's any more safe here? Cause I got news for you lady- he aint. He aint safe until he learns how ta protect himself!" he hissed at her. Lori took a step back, shaking her head wildly.

"_Protect himself?_ He doesn't need to learn how to do that. How to be a killer like _you_. He has Rick and I and everyone else to watch out for him," she spat. Daryl's fists clenched, his temper rising dangerously.

"Like Sophia?" he shouted. The camp went silent, everyone's head swiveling to stare at the redneck as he crossed the line that nobody seemed to consider. "Yeah I said it! Maybe if she knew how to defend herself she would've lasted longer. I could've found her!"

Merle's words rang through his head. _All your fault_. Maybe it had been, but he'd be damned if he'd stand by and watch another fatality that was easily avoided.

"This isn't fair. You can't put me in that sort of position! To play on my emotions…" she whined, her voice cracking. She clasped her hands together as if praying. "Rick…"

"Lori, Daryl's got a point. He and I discussed it earlier and I think it's in Carl's best interest that he learns these things. Daryl's the best person for the job," Rick tried to explain to her. Lori shot her husband a look of deep betrayal, nostrils flaring with frustration and anger.

"Well forgive me if I disagree. Everyone seems so keen on Carl becoming a man but you all forget he's still my baby boy!"

Daryl watched as she spun on her heel and stalked off down the road towards the parked cars. There was a tense moment as everyone stood in awkward silence, unsure of what to say. Maggie glanced at Glenn who was staring at Daryl as if he had suddenly grown three heads.

"I'll go talk to her," Maggie said, following after the queen bee.

Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Good lord," he rasped, "An' I only wanted to teach the kid how'ta catch squirrels."


End file.
